Last night I ate at Mission American Kitchen with a bunch of friends/business people. We were an odd lot. One end of the table was heavy with work conversation and Blackberry buzzing, the other end, my end, was thick with laughter, The Macallan, and housemade potato chips.
Our server handled it perfectly.
He worked his way around the table pouring wine and answering questions, throwing in a saucy comment on one side and deftly describing a salad on the other. He was fun and figured us out pretty quickly. When one of our bunch got a phone call and left the table, they whisked his untouched plate away to keep warm in the kitchen. When he didn’t return for quite awhile, they said they’d get him a new one when he came back. That seems so obvious, but it happens so rarely.
For all the crappy service that I have to cringe and put up with, it was such a relief to be taken care of with such aplomb.
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